


What We Had and What We Never Will

by Arcanas



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-05 18:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11018850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcanas/pseuds/Arcanas
Summary: A series of Akeshu (with some slight Shukita) prompt drabbles/fics under the premise of "The way you said: 'I love you'." [created by tumblr user trash-by-vouge] Ratings will range from G-R18.





	1. Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy. :)
> 
> Prompt 1: As a Hello

“ _The very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone._ ” 

― Jane Austen, _Love and Friendship_

\---

Heavy footfalls and too many phone calls mixed against idle conversations and weak coughing fits. The platforms spilled with life and debris – _he hated it_. One too many a passerby called his name and motioned for him to approach. He'd be caught dead if he stopped long enough to hold an actual conversation. A small raise of his hand, a smile so retail that he often paused to wonder if it was a little too good --a little too natural-- was all he offered as he kept walking. Disgust rose in his already too-tight throat as he slipped past body heat and curious stares from old and young alike.

 _Unbearable_. It was absolutely horrid. To add to his irritation--

Sounds of someone making a frantic run for their platform fell upon his hearing a little too late. Jerking his head around, he caught sight of the offender just as he slammed into his briefcase, sending it skittering across the concrete before finding rest roughly against the wall. The impact drew papers and writing utensils from their protective barrier, littering the ground in a harsh contrast of muddied public life and pure, white papers of privacy.

Clicking his tongue, he slipped his lithe form between shoulders and hips, hurrying to his discarded items. With a sigh, he bent his knees and went to procure his documents once again.

Six, seven, eight pages...one remaining. Scanning the area beside him, he felt his shoulders relax when his eyes fell upon the last piece of paper. Just as his fingertips brushed against the white sheet, it lifted into the air as if levitating. Slowly, his eyes climbed upwards to the person who had picked up his last item. As the station bustled and groaned with the wear of daily life, the two boys stared at one another a long time, recognition wearing both their faces well. Finally, leather-dressed fingers slipped over exposed skin as he took the piece of his work back.

“Hello, Goro. Running late?”

In spite of himself, a slight grin threatened to split his lips. Suddenly, it didn't seem like he was in such a rush this particular morning after all. 

"Good morning, Akira."

 


	2. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Spoilers for November in-game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2\. With a hoarse voice, under the blankets

“ _It’s always hard to lose somebody. It leaves a hole in you heart that never grows back._ ”   
― Kevin Brooks **, Lucas**

\----

“Has he eaten at all?”

“No.”

“...I see.”

He wanted to question further. Obviously something quite terrible had happened in their venture to rectify the corrupt politician. But if there was one thing Sojiro Sakura had learned from working for the government one-too-many years was that sometimes questions were the enemy. ' _What happened?_ ' Nothing good, from the looks of it. Bringing the query into the open would only add a heaviness that none of the occupants of LeBlanc (and the associated Sakura house) were currently able to digest.

Futaba and Sojiro lingered about the counter of the coffee shop awkwardly, their movements ginger and calculated, praying that no floorboards creaked or dishes clanged in the somber song of silence. It had been an hour or so since the shop had closed for the day. The cleaning and tallying of the cash had concluded nearly forty minutes ago. The two merely remained out of cautious concern. From time to time they would eye one another in hopes the other would have the answer. They didn't.

Scratching at the back of his head in obvious frustration, Sojiro grabbed his hat and motioned towards the door with his eyes, “C'mon.”

“But, Sojiro--”

“He needs time. Try not to worry too much, Futaba. He's a strong guy. Right now though, let's let him be weak.”

She nodded meekly, grabbing her laptop with one last glance at the upstairs room.

–

The soft sound of the bell and distinctive click of the lock slipped through the floor, up to his ears.

“They're worried about you, you know...we all are.”

Nothing.

“You carried out his last request. You kept your promise to him. At least take some comfort in that.”

Morgana eyed the back of the Phantom Thief leader sadly. It'd been nothing but curt replies, swollen-red eyes, yelling randomly in secluded spots of Shibuya, whispers for guidance as he worked idly on tools. It had been going on for the last week. They still had six days before the election and Shido's change of heart (hopefully it had all gone accordingly). He could rest his soul, if he needed. It still worried the feline, though.

“Joker...?”

The blanket rustled as Kurusu tugged it up over his head, sealing him off from the other room's inhabitant. Stretching, Morgana jumped onto the bed, taking a position in the bend of Akira's knees. He laid down wordlessly. If he could do nothing more, he would lie next to him.

“I'm sorry,” the cat finally whispered, his eyes squeezing shut when he felt the shudder from the male next to him.

Body tense and shivering, Akira shifted under the covers; pillow soaking deep the discarded tears, white-knuckled grip tight on the material as he screamed into the fabrics.

 


	3. Festivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3\. A scream

_“The power of getting to know one another is so immense, eclipsed only by first getting to know ourselves_.”   
― Bryant McGill,  **Voice of Reason**

**\----**

Hurriedly lapping at the water gathered in his gloved palms like an offering, that was where Akira found him. The young detective was huddled over the sink, desperately trying to cool down his scorched and swollen tongue.

“Did you even look at it before you stuffed it in your mouth?”

Akechi's figure visibly tensed as his line of sight wandered up to meet warm eyes surrounded in thick-framed glasses. The light hit his sloppy hair in such a way that he almost appeared predatory in the small men's room. His broad shoulders leaned lazily against a stall, his left foot tapping against the floor as he took in the scene.

 _Asshole_.

If it was one thing Goro despised, it was his lacking ability to decipher this man. As hard as he'd tried to crack the mystery of the Phantom Thieves from his spot clearly drawn away from them, their leader had continued to evade any and all effort he had made to narrow down the inner-machinations of his mind. His hand had been forced when he made the decision to join the Thieves. It was the only option he had left to keep his original goal in tact. But even now, he found himself utterly miffed at the blank canvas of a face he found gazing back at him in the mirror. Their every exchange was a dance, skirting around truth and lies purposefully placed by one another. How long until one of the two missed a step and ruined this little waltz they shared?

Akira watched closely over the top of his glasses as Goro slowly painted a smile upon his lips, long bangs obscuring most of his features as he reached to turn off the faucet, “Ah, it's you. I had thought I was alone in here.”

“Mm.”

Yet again, he offered little more than a sound as a retort. The teenager was so utterly quiet in most situations, almost as if keeping the juiciest of secrets tied tightly behind his lips and teeth.

Reaching for the hand towels, the detective wiped his gloves dry.

“Why not take those off when you're getting a drink?”

“Maybe I'm germophobic?”

“Then you wouldn't have eaten from our Takoyaki basket.”

Turning slowly towards him, Goro tilted his head with genuine interest. “You seem to watch a lot of what I do, Akira. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The wavy-haired male lifted himself slowly from his spot against the stalls. Shoving his hands into his pant's pockets, he stood there silently, eyes never leaving the detective's.

“Maybe I do.”

Akechi's brows raise ever-so-slightly at this admission, his jaw clenching as he desperately tried to make sense of that statement. Just what in the hell did _that_ mean?

“Hey, Aki--”

“Have you been around to the rest of the festival?”

“Why do you ask?”

He took a step towards the taller male, long-lashed stare intent, “You haven't, right? You won't have time tomorrow since you're headlining.”

Where was he going with this? Like he cared about some pathetic school festival.

“Care to walk around with me?”

–

He should have said no, turned him down flat and made to prepare mentally for the task he was to undertake for the next month or so. But instead he found himself walking in-stride with Kurusu. Sighing to himself, he squeezed at the bridge of his brows. What was it about this guy that always had him scrambling?

“Hey, the seniors are doing a haunted house. Want to solve the mystery of the dead girl in the well?”

Akechi threw him a haughty expression, “Are you teasing me, Akira? Few others have done such a thing.”

The Shujin student shrugged, completely unperturbed, “Let's go.”

“What? No, I'd rather not,” Goro replied quickly, his expression light and sealed with that smile he shared often with the public.

Standing quietly for a moment, Akira roved his face over before speaking again, “Don't tell me you're afraid.”

Spine straightening a little too tight, the public star flinched inwardly, his long hair swaying quickly as he gave a firm shake of his head, “Absolutely not. Shall I prove my mettle to you?”

A gentle chuckle was his reward.

–

The display ran through the last few classrooms and remainder of the hallway. The dark rooms and eerie music left many school girls screeching throughout the building. Walking in silence, the two boys took in the scenery more out of thoughtful regard than anything else.

It was when they were forced into a closer set of quarters, shoulders pressing against one another, that Akechi realized just how relaxed he'd been walking next to Kurusu. He cleared his throat, “It seems they put forth quite the effort to create this haunted house. I do hope no one takes a picture of me and posts it online. It would be terrible for everyone to see me terrified at school function.” He chuckled, his photogenic smile bright in the otherwise dark room.

Akira snorted, his shoulder pressing further into the boy's clothing as he leaned closer, wavy hair brushing against Akechi's long, brown strands, “We can't have that, now can we? Shall I hold your hand?”

The treat that Joker was awarded with was nothing short of priceless. Goro's mouth wordlessly moved, trying in vain to find an answer. For once, the practiced television personality was gone and he had found the detective's true spirit. If only for a moment.

–

“Well that was certainly...invigorating,” Akechi murmured as the two approached the school gate.

“Yeah.”

Sneaking a side-glance at his company, Goro straightened his tie and jacket, checking the buttons and pulling his gloves on tighter. “Well then,” He began, his false grin on his features once more, “Until tomorrow. Have a good night.”

He'd nearly made his way out the gate when the yell pierced through the light, cool air of early evening, “Goro!”

Eyes widening, Akechi came to a stop, his head turning so he could fix a pointed stare over his shoulders. There he found the Phantom Thief with one hand slightly raised in parting, his lips separated with a smile too fragile for his face. It was...certainly agreeable.

Akira laughed a bit, relishing the slight look of surprise and possible embarrassment from the ace, “I had a good time. See you tomorrow.”

 

 

 

 


	4. Cup of Joe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee is all about taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4\. Over a cup of (coffee) tea

“ _Coffee, unless it is very good and made by somebody else, is pretty intolerable at any time_.”   
― Iris Murdoch,  **The Sea, the Sea**

**\----**

Awkwardly, Futaba climbed upon her stool perch at the bar of LeBlanc. Akira had already nestled in for his dinner, courtesy of the more-recently-friendly guardian Sojiro. The two had been lost in silence as the student polished off his dinner and the restaurant owner mused over puzzles found in the daily paper. In a low drone, filling the background, was the tv. Morgana poked his head from Kurusu's school bag, sneaking smuggled bites of food from time to time.

“Why is the news always on, anyway,” The younger Sakura griped, settling her chopsticks between her digits.

“Don't ask me, I had it off,” Sojiro answered offhandedly.

“This guy chose this channel,” Morgana informed her, his meows muffled by the bag's fabric.

Futaba gave her live-in sibling an eye-full, “Don't you get tired of this? Or are you watching for something in particular?”

She waited, watching closely as the wavy-haired boy opened his mouth to answer. The news segment tonight had a very special guest feature.

_Ding_.

The shop's attendants all turned towards the door, having nearly forgotten the sign's welcoming gesture of 'OPEN' on the front window.

“Oh, well, hello. It seems I've stumbled upon a house meeting tonight.”

Goro Akechi.

Futaba peeked over her thick frames, lips curling upwards in a smirk as Akira's back arched to get a better look at the new arrival. He feigned lazy interest, but the narrowed pupils and sudden rigidness of his body whispered his secret too clearly.

“Ah, Sojiro...there's something I want to order but I need your credit card for it.”

Stroking his goatee, Sakura groaned with his discontent, “Can't it wait? I have customers, you know. And what about your dinner?”

“I'll eat at home. Besides, it's _one_ customer. Akira can handle it. Just let him close up shop.”

Kurusu stared at her blankly, his slender form already making to stand and clear his dishes away.

“Well, I suppose I could--”

“Then it's settled! C'mon! Oh, and I'm taking Morgana too. He needs a bath.”

The cat's eyes widened as he struggled to release himself of the school bag, “H-hey, Futaba! What do you think you're doing?”

Her hands and arms sealed around his small body, whisking him away from the cafe, all the while loud mewls of protest followed in their wake.

Sojiro shook his head, “That girl. Once her mind is made up, that's it. Well...take care of things for me.”

Akira nodded, already slipping on his apron and rolling up his turtleneck's sleeves. The door heavily fell closed behind them with a ring of the bell.

Goro neatly placed his briefcase near the foot of his stool, his moves graceful as he took a seat.

“I do hope I'm not being an inconvenience. I can most certainly go.”

Joker gave no reply, his back the only visual Akechi had to focus upon for answers.

Of course. He was a nuisance. Brows knitting together slowly, he glared at the counter top as he tried to understand just what the quiet meant. Did the boy know who he was? Impossible. Had he made his many advances for information too obvious? Did he intend to shut him out from now on? That possibility soured inside Goro's stomach. As to why, he couldn't quite decipher.

Gloved hands curled into fists atop his thighs. His head bowed with thoughts on how to pleasantly conceal his anxiousness.

_Thunk_.

The rattle of silver against porcelain stole his focus; a warmth poured over his station before his eyes could register the offering.

“What...is this?”

Kurusu tilted his head, shoulders slumped lethargically as he regarded his company, “It's coffee.”

“I can very well see that. But, I never--”

“Two creams, one sugar. That's how you take yours, right?”

Goro hesitated, his reddish-brown eyes a little more expressive than he normally allowed. It surprised him. How did he know?

“Yes...it is. Thank you, Akira.”

The Shujin student nodded, shuffling his way towards the door. Jerking the door open with a grunt, he flipped the sign to closed and shut it behind him once more.

Akechi sipped upon his beverage, eyes following the boy from over the rim of his cup. The familiar taste of his preferred flavorings and the original brew of LeBlanc swarmed over his tongue and tastebuds slowly. In spite of himself, he breathed a content sigh. “Well done.”

Akira gave a soft murmur of acceptance before he plopped down on the stool directly next to the detective.

“You're going to sit...there?”

Joker shrugged, leaning over the counter to nab the tv's remote. “Let's watch something.” His body heat seeped into Akechi's exposed wrist, the sensation drawing a small shudder.

“Hey, Goro...”

“Y-Yes?” He replied, long hair whipping about his cheekbones with the turn of his face towards the Phantom Thieves Leader.

Akira's grey eyes shimmered with mystery, his chin resting in his right hand as he gazed at Akechi. He reached towards the public icon slowly with his left hand, fingertips light under his jawline. Inhaling harshly, Goro remained still inside the other man's hold.

“Tell me--”

Kurusu dragged his thumb over the lower portion of the detective's chin, focus drifting from various points along his face before his lips cracked into a smile:

“--How's the coffee?”

 


End file.
